Twilight of the Republic
by Max Kylon
Summary: The story of two estranged Kuati brothers, aristocratic intrigue, and their two Jedi commanders during the Clone Wars.
1. The Militarists

_Dramatis Personae:_

 _Maximilian Kylon; patriot (Human male)_

 _Rhys Kylon; scoundrel (Human male)_

 _Locke Quey; businessman (Human male)_

 _Dana Viendan; aristocrat (Human female)_

 _Hefa Anentry; schemer (Human female)_

 _Jardan Meq; Jedi Master (Miraluka male)_

 _Xingmaen Zlyn; Jedi Padawan (Kaleesh male)_

Chapter 1: The Militarists

Pouertan Prime, Mid Rim - 22 BBY

1 day before the Battle of Geonosis

 _". . . We are_ one _nation! We have_ one leader _! We are_ one _species! We_ are _civilization! The first, last, and_ only _line of defense against the primitive, savage chaos that now threatens our great nation! And_ we _are its defenders!_ We _are the defenders of the Republic!"_ -Excerpt of Kaine Loxen's speech while on Pouertan Prime.

Maximilian Kylon clapped along with the rest after Kaine Loxen finished his speech. It was relieving to see that some people were not willing to sit idly while secessionist scum threatened to destroy the Republic and split the galaxy in two. Even better, Loxen accepted the truth nobody dared speak aloud: _aliens_ couldn't be trusted to lead the Republic in this time of crisis. Not only were aliens spearheading the Separatist movement, but they had also proven themselves time and time again to be inferior to Humans, technologically, biologically, and culturally. While the early Galactic Republic had created and spread civilization across the galaxy, aliens always seemed to be there to impede their progress. There was a reason why so many alien worlds were so primitive, and many more wouldn't be a spacefaring civilization without the Republic's Humans to assist them. Ranulph Tarkin, Republic war hero of the Stark Hyperspace War, and the founder of the Militarist movement knew this. Over the years though, the Militarists garnered alien support, and the Humanocentric ideology of the movement was eroded. Likely, the aliens would just stand in the way of the Republic's progress again.

The Militarist Movement had been started by Ranulph Tarkin from Eriadu years ago. With the Republic's Judicial Forces decaying, and a new surge of piracy and lawlessness sweeping the Outer Rim, Tarkin had decided that the time had come to put an end to trouble, and he formed the Militarists in order to rebuild the Republic Navy and Republic Army. It was also a Humanocentrist movement, seeking to remove the alien deadweight from important Republic matters. Now however, aliens themselves were part of the Militarists, and with the recent Separatist Crisis, the movement had gathered much more support.

"Breaking news!" Maximilian turned around in his wooden seat, creaking as it did so, to see a woman in the HoloNet news. "There has been an attempted coup on the planet of Dressel, near Bothan Space! A secessionist movement that had gained traction in the last weeks has finally struck against the legitimate Dresselian government! Details are still coming in, but many believe this to be instigated by the Separatist Movement and believe it to be a part of the larger, ongoing Separatist Crisis." The observer sighed.

Two years ago, tensions within the Republic reached a boiling point, as Count Dooku, former member of the Jedi Order, united the large, predatory corporations, and the aliens to form a so-called "Confederacy of Independent Systems". The Republic had been powerless to stop it. The government was weakened by decades of Senate corruption, decay in the Judicial Forces, and the ever more relevant fallibility of the Jedi. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine had worked tirelessly to restore the Republic to what it once was, but it was a difficult task.

Maximilian had joined the Judicial Forces four years ago. He was determined not to be some random nobody in the galaxy and neither did he like current affairs. He was faced with two options: accept the current state of things or accept the responsibility to change them. Maximilian chose the latter. Being an individual of poor economic resources, Maximilian was forced to join the mediocre Judicial Academy on Coruscant, rather than the prestigious Anaxes War College.

The training at the Judicial Academy was severely lacking. It was rushed, incomplete, and outdated. The Judicial Department itself was corrupt. The officers were more interested in the benefits of belonging to the Judicial Department and in making a quick profit rather than restoring order and protecting the people. Maximilian had reported more than a few members for corruption, and almost never was punishment issued. Recently, Maximilian had taken it upon himself to correct the actions of his crew members. Despite most of the crew taking his actions as comical relief, Maximilian soon put them in their place, and after three years the crew of his Carrack-class cruiser could at least pass as soldiers in what once had been the most powerful fleet ever assembled in the galaxy.

The building where the meeting had taken place was a fairly small wooden structure constructed next to a cantina and functioning as a replacement for a cellar. The building was old, primitive, and damp, with the wooden floor creaking loudly every time someone took a step. There were several wooden tables and chairs in the building, and a HoloNet screen hanged from the ceiling. The people present in the meeting numbered no more than thirty mostly men, exactly four women, and all Humans. Noticeably, there were no native Pouertans, as anti-Republic sentiment ran deep in the fools' world.

"Well, well, if it isn't Lieutenant Kylon," called out the horse voice of Vickens, another Militarist, popping Kylon's thought bubble concerning current affairs. Kylon turned around in his seat again to face him. Vickens was a little older and brawnier than Kylon himself, but the latter was taller. Vickens was a Militarist who Kylon had crossed paths with on previous Militarist gatherings. He had also quit the Judicial Forces in order to devote himself fully to the movement, a path Kylon had briefly entertained before opting against it.

"Hello, Vickens," Kylon greeted.

He let out a low chuckle. "Me and the other guys just came back from chasing some pirates down the Corellian Trade Spine," he said, gesturing to a group of people drinking. "Heard you took down some yourself by boarding them. Risky."

"Yeah, we chased them all the way from Reytha until we finally caught up with them here. I know we're way off the zone but," Maximilian shrugged. "We just had to catch them I suppose."

Vickens nodded in approval. "Not too shabby, not too shabby. First fight?"

"Yeah, actually," the other replied.

"Scared, were you?"

He scratched the back of his head. "I guess."

"Uh-huh, first battle's always the hardest. Trust me on that." After a bit of a silence Vickens asked, "So why are you still here?"

Maximilian sighed. " _Envoy_ sustained some damage so we set down to fix it. That was a month ago though. Been stuck ever since."

Vickens chuckled. "Pretty nice place to get stuck in. If you can get past the people's toxicity. And the thieves. And the Human-sized fish killers."

Maximilian simply nodded in agreement, saying "Yeah," in a near whisper.

"Well, gotta go," the older man's hoarse voice rising. "Supposed to meet up with my guys in a bit. See ya 'round."

Kaine Loxen had spoken about terminating the operations of a pirate group based on Pouertan Prime. The band was hiding in a nearby warehouse, convenient as the only spaceport was located in the Pouertan City, and a ride to any other islands had to be made by sea vessel.

"Alright people," Kaine Loxen started, grabbing the attention of the few people who hadn't yet exited the building, "as you already know, we're here to shut down some smugglers that have been operating out of Pouertan City for some time." Loxen exhibited a map and started outlined the plan. There were 7 people in the Militarist team: 5 would break into the warehouse to stop the criminals while two others would remain outside, stopping any who might decide to escape. "And yes, we do count with the authorization of the Pouertan government; this won't be a repeat of Druckenwell."

Maximilian reflected that he didn't know much about Kaine Loxen. The man apparently hailed from Abregado-Rae, a planet plagued by smugglers and corruption. He had heard something had happened on Loxen's home town, but he didn't stick around the Militarists long enough to get the full story. He did know that Loxen had never joined the Judicial Department, however. Kylon would have to be on his guard in case Loxen's leadership skill was less than his ability to deliver rousing speeches.

After Loxen was done detailing his plan, Kylon took a DLT-20A rifle and put on a gray combat suit; the soldier had learned early on his days in Pouertan that wearing the Judicial uniform was practically an invitation for a brawl.

Exiting the building, Maximilain found Rhys Kylon, his estranged brother who he was older than by a year. They'd only known themselves since a few years back, leading to a disparage in personality similar to that of rival brothers, though Maximilian attempted to not fight with Rhys, if only for the sake of his father.

"Hiya," Rhys greeted casually. "You guys are really loud, wanted to tell you to keep it down, some people next doors would like to drunkenly brawl in peace."

The older brother cracked a half-smile. "We were leaving anyway. What are _you_ doing here, anyway?"

"Locke's business. Also seemed convenient to check up on the stranded one. And who's this 'we'?"

"Uh, people," Maximilian replied vaguely.

"People _who_?"

"Militarists."

"Hah, good luck with _that_. I've heard Pouertan prisons are better arrangements than your average house."

"Yeah sure, just don't be surprised when I swoop in on Coruscant commanding a Mandator."

Rhys let out a laugh. "Keep dreaming, buddy, keep dreaming. I'll see you around."

Rhys had a witty sense of humor. That at least, was a quality that both brothers were proud of sharing.

Kylon eventually caught up with Loxen and three other men in front of the warehouse. The warehouse looked to have been originally made up of wood but had since been reinforced. It also appeared that the humidity and lack of maintenance had worn down the building. A common enough fate among Pouertan structures.

"Everyone ready?" Loxen asked. "Readies" all around. A Militarist soldier took his heavy rifle and blasted the door to bits. All five men charged inside.

The warehouse looked larger on the inside than on the outside. The wilderness had taken a much more visible toll inside, with moss-covered cracks on the walls and ceiling, water dripping from the ceiling, and puddles, dirt, and mud scattered on the floor. There were several stacks of crates inside, and a Weequay and Rodian were managing one. They were both dressed in the combat suit you'd expect a pirate to wear with blaster pistols strapped to their hips. On the left of the large room there was a door leading outside, while on the back of the room there were stairs leading to some catwalks above.

As soon as Loxen barged in the room, he shouted "Freeze! Drop your weapons!" The two aliens simply said something in their own language, but before they could draw their blasters, the Militarists killed them in a barrage of laser fire. Kylon made a mental note to remember the Militarists' "shoot first, ask questions later" policy.

A Caxen, short, blue, amphibious alien fish native to the seas of Pouertan Prime appeared in the catwalks above. This struck Kylon as odd, considering that the Caxen were highly xenophobic and unreasonable, with a distaste of technology to go with it. They were like the Tusken Raiders of Pouertan Prime. This made them both aggressive and despicable. They were also known to kidnap Pouertans from the minor islands who wandered too close to the shore, then they would either cook them alive on the surface or be drowned on the way to the Caxens' sea floor cities. To make matters even stranger, the Caxen was a cyborg, with implants on both arms and legs, and several on the face, and armed with an E-5 blaster rifle.

Two more pirates emerged from the leftmost door, a Human and a Twi'lek. Kylon was the first to react, diving quickly for cover, then shooting the Twi'Lek twice in the chest. Another Militarist moved in to kill the Human. The cyborg Caxen unloaded his weapon on a Militarist, killing him. Kylon turned around to shoot the Caxen above him. The fish's corpse dropped from the catwalk and hit the ground hard.

It appeared that had been all the smugglers present and the sentries outside had reported no one trying to escape. The group of six inside split up: one would guard the entrance, two would inspect the crates, Loxen and another would inspect the cargo freighter in the makeshift hangar on the roof, and Kylon would inspect the computer in the next room.

Kylon searched the damp, dirty, and humid warehouse. Stray blaster bolts from the firefight had pierced several holes into the wooden walls. He kept on walking, until he found the computer he was looking for and turned it on. Kylon searched through some files and quickly found what he was looking for. Apparently, the Trade Federation owned an outpost in some out-of-the-way island, and was paying freelance pirates to smuggle them Caxen, and to be secretive about it. He copied the information to his datapad and went to the larger room.

Once Kylon returned to the larger room, Loxen was talking with the others, so Kylon waited his turn. While he waited, he noticed that the crates the others had opened had prosthetic parts inside. That, and the information now in his possession would explain the cyborg Caxen he had killed earlier.

"What'd you find?" Loxen asked Kylon after he was done talking.

"The Trade Federation has a remote outpost on this world," Kylon explained. "Smugglers and poachers are being paid to transport them Caxen and prosthetic body parts. It's my interpretation that they're turning Caxen into cyborgs." Kylon proposed, pointing at the dead fish.

"Well, good work Kylon," Loxen congratulated. "I'll assemble a team so we can go investigate by midnight. You'll be here, I assume?"

"Probably, unfortunately."


	2. Business

Chapter 2: Business

Pouertan Prime, Mid Rim - 22 BBY

1 day before the Battle of Geonosis

 _"You've got to remember to_ adapt _. Prideful lil' guy you trying'a provoke? Boast a little, see how he likes it. Emotional feller? Tell him how you've got this family and all. Thugs and them good-for-nothings? Heh, now that's where the big guns come in."_ -Locke Quey on sales tactics. 

Rhys entered the moderately-sized cantina. It was of a dull color, and rather old-fashioned. It smelled like nerf steak, toast, Corulag bamboo syrup, and cheap ales. There weren't many clients at the moment. The young man looked at the HoloNet. The channel it was on was the news. Something about a coup on Dressel. He shrugged, as he didn't really care for politics, and kept on walking.

Rhys approached his friend, Locke Quey, who had finished his meal and was talking business with a blue-skinned Twi'Lek in front of him.

"Come on Lee'Chao, you know how it is with the Trade Federation and them types. Us 'independent' types got to stick together, eh? Thirteen thousand credits _for both_ shipments, that's my final offer."

Lee'Chao made a face of annoyance. "Deal. I'll see its sent to your ship." They shook hands, bid each other goodbye, and the Twi'Lek was out.

As soon as Lee'Chao had exited the building Locke burst out in raucous laughter, drawing more than a few eyes on them both. "Watch our backs, Rhys kid!" he told him, still laughing. "The police may tail us 'cause I practically robbed him!"

"Really?" Rhys asked smiling.

"Aye!" Locke's laughter finally started dying down, but he was still smiling. "The Caxen eggs? Prices skyrocketed on Coruscant last week, they're worth at least seventy-five percent more than what he sold it to me for! Weapons? Collector's item among them, worth at least twice what the rest are worth put together!" Locke contained himself. "What about you, kid? Enjoy your walk 'round the place?"

"Sure did. Looks like Max's still 'round. Also met one of them Pouertan politicians."

"I thought you weren't one for politicians." Locke's eyes locked suspiciously on Rhys.

"Nope. But I am one for their wallets." Rhys whipped a wallet from inside his jacket and slid it into the table, sitting himself where the Twi'Lek had been in front of Locke. "Two thousand creds and not a deci-cred less."

Locke laughed. "Two thousand creds for nothin'? Now that's what I call a bargain!"

He fingered his pockets and showed Rhys a note on a sheet of flimsi. "'Ere, I've got some stuff to take care of, I don't trust that Lee'Chao farther than I can throw him, but I need some stuff bought from the market. You handle it?"

Rhys nodded. "Right on it."

Locke Quey was a big man entering his mid-50s, with a bushy beard that went around his mouth. When Locke had arrived on Dantooine, Rhys had helped him on a job gone awry, and after that the old man had taken the orphan with him. Rhys had never regretted the decision of jumping ship with Locke first chance he got.

Life on Dantooine seemed almost like another one now. His earliest memory was of a man dropping him from a freighter. A young Rhys turned around and asked him "What do I do now?" The other had responded with cold indifference saying, "I dunno. Die, I guess." As the ship had lifted off, he had thought that maybe he should live. All in tears, of course, but that wasn't exactly a very important detail.

After having wondered the settlements for who knows how long, a family had adopted the emaciated Rhys. And taught him how to fire a rifle. That was the best part.

The line at the market was long, but the people distracted, so Rhys hastily yet warily managed to push his hovercart all the way to second in line, with the woman in front of him already wrapping up.

A short, scruffy-looking man turned around and noticed that Rhys had cut in line.

"Ey! Hot-espawn! Get out of dere, I wah heer firht!"

Rhys looked around and behind him, then pointed at his chest. "Uh . . . who? Me?"

"Yah, jou!"

Rhys had noticed during his time on the planet, that Pouertans had a funny accent when speaking Basic. The pronounciate on of s's and y's were the most noticeable difference. They also seemed to overuse the sound of the double ee.

"Uh, jou muht be mihtaken, sir! Yeh! I wah here already! All mah life!"

"Arh jou makin' fun of how I spake lil punk?"

"Certainly . . ."

The small man looked as if he was going to kick Rhys halfway 'cross the galaxy.

". . . not, sir!" Rhys finished.

"Getta o' heer," the short man warned. "Back o' the line!"

"Kid! Pay up!" Rhys looked back and saw that the cashier had already finished scanning his items and they'd been bagged already by a rudimentary bagger droid.

He looked back at the angry man behind him and shrugged innocently. "Sowwy."

Rhys picked up and exited the building, leaving behind the fuming man and a few annoyed customers. It looked like there had been a short shower, so the poor roads of Pouertan Prime were wet and sticky with mud. The young man groaned, he'd have to clean his boots but at least he'd have something to do on the way back to Coruscant.

While he made his way casually to the spaceport, Rhys spotted two men in black suits that he had spotted earlier. And earlier. And earlier. Right 'till he had bailed out of the market. If these saps would keep bugging him Rhys would have to do some bugging of his own. He took a quick and unexpected turn down a small alleyway. Now he'd have to act quickly; first thing first, he spotted a large garbage container nearby and he hid his bags there. Rhys shrugged it off, the food was bagged for a reason.

Next, he unzipped his jacket just enough so that he'd be able to conceal his blaster pistol but also draw it out quickly. The Pouertan authorities didn't take too kindly to citizens brandishing weapons of any kind. Rhys checked it, blasted was primed and ready, he hid it again. Now he'd have to pick a defensible spot. Just around the corner would do nicely-

A hand reached out from said corner, barring Rhys' walking. Its owner showed itself, one of the men who had been trailing him. Rhys turned around to walk back the way he came, but now he was sandwiched between the two men. Great.

Nobody talked for a few seconds, until Rhys decided he could talk his way out of it. "Hey, what's up?" he asked with a smile on his face.

"The magihtrate wahns to see jou," the one who had stopped him said in a somewhat deep voice.

Oof, the magistrate, some sort of low-level politician in Pouertan. Low level enough for Rhys to have stolen from him. "Uh, I don't think so guys. I think you've got the wrong boyo." He slowly backed away. If they'd been able to cut him off, then maybe Rhys could escape, double back, pick up his stuff, and bail. The spaceport was practically within sight anyway.

The two men made a move to search their suits. Now was his chance. He swiftly kicked one in the groin, then gathered all the strength he could to tackle the one in his way and head through the corner that he had intended to go through in the first place, then dimly heard "After heem!" coming from one of the men.

Running through the alleyways was a challenge. Most were easily flooded, and this particular one was no exception. Rhys didn't consider running for his life while continually falling down on mud and sewage water to be exactly optimal, but at least the other guy was having a harder time at it. But harder was what it was about to get, as he spotted a blaster in the man's hand, and next a bolt swooping right above Rhys' head.

Hearing another shot, Rhys panicked and jumped into the mud (and his chest into the blaster he was carrying), the bolt sizzling right where he had been just a moment ago. The boy got on his feet, drew his blaster, and started shooting back while running forward. He'd forced the man to take cover! As Rhys laughed lightly at the tide change, he ran straight into a concrete wall. Not even permacrete, just cheap Pouertan concrete.

Cursing both himself and the cheapness of all things Pouertan, while making a mental note to look forward when running for his life from strange old men, Rhys turned around the corner dashed through this next alley, only falling down twice, and back into the main street. He heard gasps of surprise and horror at the publicly indecent boy covered head-to-toe in mud with a blaster in hand. Paying them no need, Rhys quickly located the alley where he'd left his stuff.

He found the other man, blaster in hand, facing the way he came in. Panicked, Rhys jumped back into the mud, firing his own blasted an innumerable amount of times since he'd seen the man, until he'd jumped into the mud, and a few for good measure afterwards, even if he couldn't see what he was shooting at. Rhys looked up and saw the body lying on the floor. He edged near it and counted three smoking holes scared around the man's torso. He looked at both sides of the alley. Strangely, the partner hadn't arrived here yet. Taking that as a good sign, Rhys partook in the collection of due reparations for his troubles, in the form of the aggressor's wallet and blaster, dumped them into the bags along with his own, then took everything and hightailed it to the spaceport. Hopefully security wouldn't stop him as a health risk.


End file.
